


Dito

by Bibliotheksbewohnerin



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:40:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8341984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bibliotheksbewohnerin/pseuds/Bibliotheksbewohnerin
Summary: This is a prompt fill from very long time ago - I apologise that it's so late. The prompt was "dito"  and I don't wanna spoil too much, but I it's mostly fluff. There is cuddling.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a prompt by my-queer-watson on tumblr, thanks to darkmistandodddreams for the beta!

It had been a long and exhausting day. The case we had been working hadn‘t looked like much in the beginning, which is why I had gone in alone. But things went pear-shaped pretty fast and when I called in Nightingale, it had almost been too late. He diffused the situation, but I couldn‘t deny that I had taken a beating. I felt like I could sleep for three days straight, but the things I had seen that day did not leave my mind as we made our way back to where we had parked our cars.

Nightingale must have seen the look in my eye because he offered to drive me back to the Folly and get the Asbo the next day. I nodded and slipped into the passenger seat without a second thought. I could feel myself staring straight ahead the whole ride, not being able to say a single word, and Nightingales eyes were upon me every time he could afford to divert his attention from the road. 

„Peter...would you, er, like to talk about it?“

I shook my head. He seemed okay with that and focused on getting us home as soon as possible again.  
The Jag was swiftly parked in the garage and I made to move towards the back entrance of the Folly when Nightingale stopped me. 

„Peter, there‘s an important Rugby match tonight and I‘m afraid I may have forgotten how to get the TV to work. Sorry to trouble you at this time“

He tried very hard to look convincing when he said it, an I definitely gave him points for effort and followed him up the stairs. I grabbed the remote and settled on the couch, where Nightingale had already unfolded a blanket and started to drape it over me as soon as I sat down.  
„Sir, there‘s no rugby on any channel“  
„I‘m afraid you got me. Pick something.“  
I could suppress a smile, the first one since I arrived at that damn crime scene this morning, and found some reruns of Doctor Who. Just what I needed, coincidentally. 

Nightingale sat next to me, rigid and desperately trying to seem relaxed. But as the episodes progressed, I could feel him inching closer, seeing just how close he could get towards me. The case was still on my mind, and every even remotely violent scene I saw made me wince. Nightingale must have seen it too, because at some point he got close enough for me to feel his body heat all the way through my sweater and his pristine suit. 

My head felt empty and sore and just plain heavy so I did what felt natural at the time and leaned my head on Nightingales shoulder. Maybe the case had left me more delusional than I had initially thought. Nevertheless, he neither moved nor complained.  
I must have been shaking, because Nightingale grabbed the blanket that was folded neatly on the sofa and draped it over me and him.  
I felt myself getting tense as I saw something of a bloody scene on TV, nothing gruesome mind you, it’s a family show, but I still felt weird. Nightingales calm and steady breathing, just a tad faster than usual, caught my attention. I tried to focus on it, and soon I felt as if I was in a deep state of meditation. 

Nightingale leaned in closer and there was a sensation that seemed familiar, and when I though about it in hindsight, the only thing I could adequately compare it to was the sensation just before my first kiss. Not in a small bedroom this time, worried about parents coming in, but with that familiar murmur of irrelevant TV in the background. 

He whispered and it was the most sincere whisper I had ever heard. The “You know I care deeply for you, Peter” was barely audible but it reached my stomach immediately.  
I inclined my head towards him, and “Dito” was all my head could come up with.  
Nightingale grunted with approval.   
I can’t remember how long we stayed that way.


End file.
